(Untitled)

[downsidedarling]

Anna Reeve doesn't actually know how to drive a motorbike.

Like she's going to let that stop her.

She helped Eden get set up, then mentioned that she was itching for a solo road trip, and would that be all right?

Apparently, it was.

One tallish dead girl, disobeying nonexistent speed limits.

Comments

[nobodysdog]

Bad guys are supposed to like motorbikes. That the werewolves in Vegas had no cultural exposure to the strange machines at all before coming here has failed to stop the 'bad guy' node in their hindbrain from lighing up when they discovered them, and a few have taken to zipping around on them.

It doesn't do much, because a purebred uberwaldean werewolf can nearly keep pace with a speeding bike anyway. It just feels - what's the world - right, cool.

As Anna speeds down the I-235 towards Vegas, something howls.

A few minutes later she's joined on the highway by two naked womenon big black bikes. It's a big highway, and they keep their distance, but they're there.

[downsidedarling]

Hers is blue, and smallish.

It does not look particularly cool.

It does, however, feel all kinds of awesome. Thrill-seeking when you're dead has limited potential, but there's still something to the wind on your face.

Helmet? Kidding, right? She's only wearing shoes because Eden insisted.

Her companions rate little notice. A glance or two. A shrug. That's it.

[nobodysdog]

They're not exactly companions, although for a second or two they do in fact flank her.

Then they both accelerate that bit more.

[downsidedarling]

This isn't a race, this isn't a race, this isn't a... oh fuck it.

They want to go faster? She'll go faster, too.